


Mud and Moonbeams

by geekygingergirl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-03 00:34:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4079830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekygingergirl/pseuds/geekygingergirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Luna at Shell Cottage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mud and Moonbeams

She sat before him on the floor, studying his sleeping form with intense focus. She supposed it was not a highly socially acceptable thing to do, watching a boy sleep in someone else’s living room, but then again, Luna wasn’t generally a very socially acceptable person. 

Chocalatey. That was how most people would describe the delicious way his skin smoothed over the planes and curves of his face. Muddy, Luna tried, because she wasn’t most people. That wasn’t quite right either, though—mud wasn’t a nice enough thing for Dean to be compared to. Some people even called it an insult. She wasn’t sure why—she loved the cool, gloppy feel of mud between her toes, standing out in the garden after a rain. Luna reached out and gently brushed her finger over the curving bit where his nose went round and button-y. 

Dean woke up. It was slow, and quiet, like most things he did. His eyes opened, and he registered Luna in front of him and her finger resting on the bridge of his nose.

“Hi,” he croaked, sleep-blurrred and Luna-struck. A miniature smile quirked itself over his lips.

“Hullo,” she whispered back. “I guess I’m supposed to leave now, aren’t I?”

“I guess,” he said, but before he could finish his sentence, Luna was pattering fast away around sleeping figures and over furniture to the door. “Wait!” Dean hissed.

She turned, pirouetted, to face him.

“I was going to say that you should leave, but I should leave with you,” he said, as softly as he could muster.

Dean felt Luna’s eyes on his mouth, making out the words in the half-light. She nodded slowly, and held out her hand. Dean slipped out from the thin blanket covering him and followed her outside.

Luna was already perched on a tuft of grass right above the sea. Her hair, yellow-white and glowing, was exactly like the moon casting its light in wave-curled ribbons across the water. His fingers itched for a paintbrush, a pencil, anything that he could try to use to pin down the beauty of those two things beside each other. But of course, Luna was not something that could be pinned down. All he could do was try to hold onto some piece of her while she was here, next to him, sliding her fingers between his.

“Hi,” he repeated softly, because he was an artist, not a wordsmith.

“Hi,” she echoed, because all the words she really needed were tangled up in that one.

He looked down at her, noticing the captured fairy-lights inside her eyes and the shadows beneath them. He saw the million shades of rose inside her lips, and the way they cracked under the salty air and the danger that seemed momentarily displaced from the world. He felt, cautiously, the thick golden locks of hair like rope twisting beneath the sea. She felt his lips with hers.

They were soft, even with the cracks he’d noticed earlier. It was like nothing he’d ever felt—not the playful lips of Ginny, or the angry ones of Seamus that one time alone in the Gryffindor dormitory. They were just like Luna—lovely, and faraway, not quite there but perfectly whole all the same. And then she bit him, catching his lower lip hard between her teeth.

“Ow,” he laughed, pulling away from her, a little incredulous.

“Sorry,” she breathed. “I thought that was something people did.”

“Well, it is,” he said, “only more like this.”


End file.
